the middle of a big case and working nights and weekends with very little time for me. But this is a whole other ball of wax.
Once my clothes and watch have been returned to me and I’m dressed, Hugh squeezes my hand.
“You all set?” he asks.
“Yup.”
“You don’t have a coat?”
I glance down at my blouse and pants, wrinkled from being balled into a plastic bag, and my black kitten heels, still damp from the rain. I remember a coat—my black trench.
“Maybe it was left behind in the ambulance.”
“Why don’t I follow up on that later—let’s get you home now.”
Outside I see that the rain has stopped, though it’s left behind a bruised, swollen October sky. In the cab Hugh pulls me toward him and leaves his arm draped around me. My right cheek rests on the soft worsted wool of his suit. My friend Gabby once joked that Hugh probably showered in his suits, but I like them, especially seeing them lined up in his closet. To me they’re a reminder of how hard he’s worked, never taking anything for granted.
I’m sure he has a billion more questions but is saving them till we’re home and I’m feeling better. It’s a relief to not have to talk and yet at the same time I feel wired again, my limbs jittery.
Finally, we’re inside our building lobby, hurrying past the doorman and concierge—who probably note my disheveled appearance but would never betray their surprise—and riding the twenty-seven floors to our apartment.
“Would you like something to drink?” Hugh asks as we pass from the foyer into the great room, which serves as a combination living, dining, and kitchen area.
“A glass of sparkling water, if you don’t mind,” I tell him, taking in the clean open space as if I’m seeing it for the first time: the white couch and armchairs, the glass-topped dining table, the floor-to-ceiling windows with the city views spilling out below and beyond.
“What about something more nourishing? Like some soup?”
“Honey,” I say smiling, hoping to lighten the mood a little. “I’m sure we don’t have any soup. Unless you count the three old cubes of chicken bouillon that I brought along as part of my wedding dowry.”
He chuckles. “Right. How about takeout then? We can order from Pavone’s.”
“Um, sure, sounds good.” I’m not hungry, but I need to be sitting across from Hugh at our dining table, a regular nightly ritual for us.
As Hugh pours me a glass of Pellegrino water, I wander the length of the room.
“What’s the matter, Ally?” he asks, furrowing his brow.
“My purse. I was praying it might be here—along with my keys and my phone. Can you call my number?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s here. I would have heard your phone ringing before.” After handing me the glass, he slides his phone from his pants pocket and taps the screen.
I hold my breath, but there’s only silence.
“I still have my old iPhone, so I can use it with a new SIM card—but darn, all our credit cards. They have to be canceled.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it. And you can use our spare key. I’ll have another one made for us.”
“I hate to dump this all on you.”
“I don’t mind, truly. I just want you to relax, take it easy tonight.”
I realize how achy I still am. “I think what I want most of all before dinner is a shower.”
“Of course. Can you handle it alone?”
“I think so. I don’t feel faint anymore, really.”
“I might hang in the bedroom while you’re showering.”
“Hugh, I appreciate the thought, but it’s really not necessary.”
He steps forward and encircles me with his arms. “You’ll have to forgive me if I glom on to you over the next few days. I want to be sure you’re okay.”
“I like the idea of you glomming on to me, but I’ll be fine showering.”
“Okay, I’ll order dinner and cancel the cards. How about chicken piccata? And a salad?”
“Sounds good.”
Leaving Hugh behind, I traipse down the long corridor to the master bedroom. After draining the water glass, I peel off my blouse, bra, pants, and underwear and stuff them all into the hamper, though I’m tempted to chuck them in the waste basket. There’s a sour, sweaty smell emanating from them, and they have a clammy feel, too, as if I’ve been in them for days.
After grabbing my robe, I search all around the space, and also in the alcove off the bedroom, which I use as a home office when I don’t go